Kill Him? I Though You said Kiss Him!
by Sailor Simba
Summary: Lucius Malfoy, Voldemort's right-hand wizard, fancies fancy handwriting; his son fancies it's too difficult to read. Sometimes, a few small letters make a big difference. [HPxDM slash]


The first thing Harry saw when the slamming door woke him up was Malfoy Jr.'s livid face.

"You!" Malfoy shouted. "_You_ are responsible for my father's insanity, aren't you? _Aren't you_?"

Harry blinked in the dim light and attempted to preserve his modesty with the dirty shirt they'd given him upon throwing him into a cell. "Um…" He wasn't normally at his best in the morning, and after three days in a Death Eater hideout with only mouldy bread to eat, he was at an all-time low.

"Don't _um_ at me!" Malfoy shrieked, stomping his foot. Harry still had no clue what he wanted. "What do you have to say for yourself!"

"Nothing," Harry said, rubbing his eyes. He looked up at Malfoy, who by now was looking apoplectic. "If you tell me what we're talking about, I might have more to say."

"You know what we're talking about! Dad would _never_ say something like _that_ if he wasn't cursed!" Malfoy yanked at Harry's collar. "Stand up!" he barked, pressing Harry against the wall when he obeyed. "Tell me, did you somehow use wandless magic on him when he was in here? Or did you slip him a potion?"

"Malfoy, you bloody lunatic, I've no idea what you're on about!" Harry tried again, exasperated.

"This!" Malfoy thrust a crumpled note at Harry, who accepted it gingerly. When nothing horrible happened to him, he read the fancy script:

_Draco,_

_ Harry Potter is in the South Dungeon.  
__ Kiss him._

_ -Dad_

Harry blinked. He'd always known Lucius Malfoy had ideas he couldn't _quite_ agree with, but he'd never know they were of this kind. "Um," he said again.

"'Um'!" Malfoy shrieked. "Is that all you can say? My father wants us to—"

Harry clapped a hand over Malfoy's mouth. "I can ask you to keep your voice down, too," he said. "I don't want everyone to know about this!"

"There isn't anything to know, is there?" Malfoy spat, stepping back.

"No. Because you're not going to…um. You know. Right?"

Malfoy looked at Harry with an entirely unreadable expression.

"You won't, will you? Please tell me you won't."

"You're asking," Malfoy said deliberately, "if I intend to kiss _you_, my enemy of eight years. I've hated you from the moment I saw you. Am I going to _kiss you_?"

Well. Put that way, Harry had to agree that it seemed rather ridiculous.

"I'm glad," Harry said with a relieved smile. "I really don't want to kiss you."

"I don't suppose I have a choice, though," Malfoy said slowly. He was looking at Harry with narrowed eyes, a smirk just waiting to break out on his lips. "I can't go against my father's orders."

Harry had never understood how a deer caught in headlights felt before. "You're not serious."

"Oh, I am. Anything that causes you this much discomfort can't be too bad."

"Oh, no, it can be very bad," Harry said nervously, but Malfoy was stepping closer, still with that calculating expression.

Malfoy puckered his lips and Harry closed his eyes, whimpering in distress. He'd never kissed a man – he'd never _wanted_ to kiss a man – and now he'd be kissing _this_ man of all the approximately three billion men out there.

When Malfoy pressed his dry lips against Harry's, Harry wasn't as disgusted as he'd thought he'd be. At least it wasn't wet, like Cho's, and he wasn't afraid he'd be devoured, like with Ginny. His breath was warm and tickled the sparse hairs on Harry's upper lip. Harry thought it was rather pleasant, even. He opened his mouth slowly, thinking that right about _now_ would be a good time to add some tongue, but alas. Malfoy pulled back and looked him in the eye with a disgusted sneer on his face.

"All right, Potter, for the first time in your life, you were right. It _was_ that bad."

Harry blinked. "I'm glad you think so," he said, pushing Malfoy away as he attempted to collect his thoughts. They were rather jumbled, and none of them really made sense, but the primary thought was…

He'd kissed _Malfoy_, and he'd _liked_ it.

Well, not liked it per se, more…enjoyed it a tad more than he'd expected, which wasn't much, so it wasn't as though that said anything, really. He liked girls.

And Malfoy, apparently, if his less civilised parts were to be believed. He didn't like believing them since really, that notion was simply ridiculous because Malfoy was a man and a prat and Harry hated him with all his heart so it wasn't as though this _meant_—wait. Hermione had told him about this once.

Sometimes when you were captured, you started _believing_ you liked your captors, no matter how much you hated them for disrupting your life. It was some kind of coping mechanism, apparently. Copenhagen syndrome?

Malfoy was backing off, wrinkling his nose distastefully. "I want to brush my teeth. You're disgusting, Potter." He shook himself. "Ew, I kissed you. Now what?"

"How would I know?"

"Well, I would _assume_ that since you're the one who set my father up to this, you'd know _why_ I was supposed to do…that." Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"For the last bloody time, Malfoy, I didn't do anything to your father! He hasn't even been to visit me!"

Annoyance overtook humiliation at his reaction to the kiss for a while, but it quickly changed to hesitation. What if Lucius Malfoy _had_ been there and Harry just didn't remember it? Clearly, his mind wasn't all right, so it wasn't entirely impossible.

"Maybe…" Malfoy bit his lip with a distasteful expression. "I really hate to say it, but maybe we have to keep on doing it until something happens?"

Harry bit his lower lip to keep from hissing in pleasure.

_Definitely something wrong with me_, he thought. _But I _have_ gone round the bend, so it's not my fault_. "Well, maybe," he said, hoping he didn't sound eager. "I don't know, obviously, but it sounds logical."

"What would you know about logic?" Malfoy said in a tight, biting voice. "Ew. Dad's always told me _not _to kiss boys, and now he's telling me I have to kiss _you_, of all people. I don't want to!"

Harry watched Malfoy predatorily, wondering what Malfoy would've been doing with his time had his daddy _not_ told him not to snog boys. It brought about certain pleasurable images.

_Copenhagen__ syndrome!_ Harry still wasn't sure it was called that, and he rather thought Hermione would scold him for it if she ever found out. Whatever it was called, he had to conclude that it was extremely unfortunate.

"Potter!" Malfoy's angry snap startled him out of his trance. "I said I don't want to!"

"Well, what am I supposed to do about it?" Harry countered. "It's not as though you have much choice. Your dad says we have to, after all." It was amazing, the way the war brought out his Slytherin qualities. Malfoy whinged and made faces, but walked closer to Harry, one small step at a time.

"Just…no tongue, Potter," he said, regarding Harry's lips with a faint sneer, leaning back when Harry leaned toward him.

"Maybe that's what we did wrong, though," Harry said. Malfoy paled (which was a scary sight on that already pasty face), shaking his head in disbelief.

"If I survive this, I need to drink Mrs Skower's Mess Remover," he whimpered. He took a deep breath and grabbed Harry by the collar, pulling him closer.

Harry initiated the kiss, rather less reluctantly than Malfoy might have, thinking that if Malfoy did drink that cleaning potion, maybe he'd taste better. There wasn't much time for grooming during a war, but _really_. You'd suppose an elitist like Malfoy would at least brush his teeth every day.

Kissing Malfoy made him weak at the knees, despite the taste. He supposed it was the shallow breathing; for some reason, he had become utterly dizzy. He pulled at Malfoy's shirt, wanting him closer—a swipe of tongue at the corner—and angled his head just so—

For the second time that day, the door to Harry's cell burst open.

Lucius Malfoy was standing in the doorway, looking at them in shock. Draco Malfoy waved his hand impatiently at his father, kissing Harry more fiercely.

"Don't you think the magic should've been triggered by now?" he murmured against Harry's lips.

Harry only moaned in reply.

"I wonder what it does. I hope that whatever it is, you'll be killed in the process." He sucked Harry's bottom lip almost tenderly, using his teeth only as lightly as he might have on himself.

"Draco!" It seemed Lucius Malfoy had finally regained his composure. "What are you _doing_?"

Malfoy let go of Harry's lips, still holding onto the shirtfront. "Only what you told me to," he said. "Though really, I think it could take less time."

"_When_ did I tell you to – to—" Lucius Malfoy waved his hand toward the entangled boys with a distasteful expression.

Malfoy's hands were loosening on Harry's shirtfront. "On the…" he licked his lips, though they didn't need any more saliva so it just ended up looking as though he wanted to taste Harry some more. "On the note you left for me."

Lucius Malfoy's left eye was twitching. "It says _kill him_," he wheezed.

The scene froze, with Lucius Malfoy looking at his son and Malfoy looking at Harry; the former with a livid expression and the latter looking much like people did when Luna Lovegood talked to them.

"Oh," Malfoy said. "Kill him." He blinked at Harry. "I thought it said kiss him."

_La fin_.


End file.
